


I'll Sit This One Out

by oh-jesus-sammy (supernaturalblackhole1)



Series: Swesson Love Week [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Voyeurism, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-29 13:26:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7686235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supernaturalblackhole1/pseuds/oh-jesus-sammy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam Wesson looks so sexy playing volleyball at the Sandover company picnic</p><p>Day Two - No prompt</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Sit This One Out

It’s a scorching hot day way too hot for a company picnic. Dean tugs at his shirt collar and wonders why the hell he didn’t wear a t-shirt, if he’s supposed to hob nob with all the other suits he should at least feel comfortable.

Almost all of Sandovers employees were in attendance with their families. Little future executives running around playing tag, corporate wives gossiping and complaining about their nonexistent fat asses as they work on their tans. Some of the young guys from tech support started a volleyball game. Everyone was having a good time but Dean find himself distracted. It wasn’t really the heat or his douchey coworkers.

It was the new guy. Sam Wesson. There was something strange about him. Dean stole glances at him in between firm handshakes and hearty chuckles about stock options and 401ks. He stole more glances then he should, praying his secret was safe behind mirrored sunglasses. He could hear chatter amongst the wives;

“You see the new guy?”  
“The big one from tech support?”  
“Those hands could support my ass anytime.”

Dean felt anger bubbling up in his chest, he knew these women and they’d better stay the hell away from Sam. He couldn’t explain the desire to protect him or the almost gravitational pull towards him. It didn’t make any sense, not to mention Sam was a bit odd. One day last week Dean found himself alone in the elevator with him with him when Sam started taking about ghosts. If it was a pick-up line then kudos to him because it was the weirdest fucking thing Dean has ever heard and damn if it didn’t work.

The heat really didn’t help, all the guys were shirtless as they ran around the court. Dean watched the way Sam’s body moved, the outline of his ass in running shorts, how the muscles of his upper body would flex and roll as he spiked the ball, the way sweat settled in the deep curve of his lower back and Dean wanted to run his fingers through it. He sits down by himself and pokes at his salad, defeated. He looks up just in time to see Sam smiling and jogging towards him.

“Hey,” Dean its suddenly hit by a wave of heat and musk, the overpowering smell of sweat. His hair is thoroughly soaked and hanging in his face as he leans over to catch his breath, body red and thrumming from exertion.

Dean is so screwed.

“Wesson,” he says with a nod clipped and professional.

“Sir,” the corner of Sam’s mouth twitches and Dean feels a warmth pool in his abdomen and tug at his groin, “do you wanna play?”

“I’m not really dressed for the occasion, thank you though.” Sam moves in a little closer, making sure the other suits can’t hear him, his tongue flicks out and licks around his sweetheart lips.

“Oh. So you like to watch, huh?”


End file.
